


Limerence

by Itch



Series: Reid's Favourite Words [1]
Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Moonlight, Stargazing, Sunrises, Words, beach, many pretty words, shit i have nothing to tag this with
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-15
Updated: 2016-05-15
Packaged: 2018-06-08 12:02:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6853819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Itch/pseuds/Itch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spencer Reid has many favourite words, in English and not. Derek Morgan likes to listen to these words, and perhaps share a few of his own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Limerence

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kibbers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kibbers/gifts).



> sO HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY #WRITINGGOALS THAT IS KIBBERS I LOVE YOU BABE AND I HOPE YOU HAD A WONDERFUL DAY I know you like Moreid and pretty words so this sorta happened and yeah

**Without language, thought is a vague, uncharted nebula ~ Ferdinand de Saussure**

 

Morgan was standing close to him. Oh, oh so close to him. Close enough that Reid could feel the warmth from his bicep in his own. Before he could step out of the open door however Morgan’s arm shot out, blocking his path.

 “Morgan?” He glanced to his side, licking his lips nervously as he saw the soft smile gracing his co-worker’s handsome face, the twinkle in his dark eyes.

 “It’s raining Reid. You got an umbrella or you just gonna get wet?” The question hit him like a tennis ball to the forehead and he realised Morgan was right, it was raining. How hadn’t he noticed?

 “I don’t mind the rain. And it’s only a short walk from here to my house so…” He shrugged. He wasn’t bothered about the rain.

 “A’ight then, but I’m still walking you.”

It wasn’t a long walk, maybe 20 minutes if they walked top speed, which they didn’t. It wasn’t raining hard, more like a soft drizzle, enough to make them both fairly damp but not enough to soak them through to the bone and be cold and uncomfortable.

 “Man I love that smell.” Morgan said after five minutes of pleasant silence, making Reid look at him again. Morgan was strolling, his hands in his hoodie pocket, the hood not up. Honestly, Reid wasn’t sure he’d ever looked more handsome than then in his casual jeans and jacket. How he was so effortlessly stunning Reid would never know.

 “What smell?” The flowers? The oil from the cars? _My shampoo?_

 “The rain smell. Y’know the one.” Reid let his brain whir into motion, flicking tiny little boxes open and rooting through them for the information he needed.

 “Petrichor. That’s the name of the smell. It’s constructed from Greek, coming from _petra_ meaning stone, and _ichor_ meaning fluid that flows in the veins of the gods.” He smiled brightly. He liked the word petrichor. The stone, and the fluid from a god’s veins. He wasn’t really a religious man, but something about it sounded so otherworldly and mystical he couldn’t help but love it.

 “Huh. I guess you learn something new every day.”

Stood on Reid’s doorstep with raindrops clinging to his eyelashes he half expected Morgan to lean in and kiss him. He didn’t, and that was okay. If that wasn’t what Morgan wanted, then that wasn’t what he wanted. No problems with that. He also had to fight himself from leaning into Morgan’s warm hand as the other reached up, touching Reid’s cheek, brushing it free of raindrops. It was a tender gesture, one that sent Reid’s heart up in delicate golden flames, the embers of these turning into dusky butterflies that settled in his stomach. His fragile little butterflies didn’t stop shifting and fluttering until he was falling asleep with his fingers tracing the lines of Dorian Grey, eyelids easing closed.

 

Working where he did, beauty was sometimes hard to see in the world. All he could see was the inside part of people that most wanted to hide. He could see the smudged edges of badly done concealer on a man’s face that was hiding a darkening bruise, and he could see the split knuckles of the girl beside him. He could see the tired rings under a mother’s eyes, the bright three girls running around her feet unknowing. He could see the way that the teenage boy with the backwards cap was showing signs of a sociopath, and the boy he was clasping hands with and bumping his chest against was showing signs of a psychopath. He could see every secret, every lie, every fumbling tongue and speeding pulse. So when it came to beauty, he didn’t look to people.

He mixed himself some bubble mix and leant out of his window, blowing them into the air. The bubbles were large and strong, lifting on gentle winds, sometimes down the street over the head of a child who giggled in delight. Bubbles were fun, they were good, and they reminded him of another of his favourite words; iridescent, adjective, meaning producing a display of rainbowlike colours. As he would explain to JJ as he blew bubbles over the head’s of Henry and Jack, it’s also known as goniochromism (a word he didn’t like as much as iridescent) and it occurs on seashells and butterfly wings too. What he didn’t tell JJ was one of the reasons he loved it so much was because when his mother was well, they once went to a butterfly house, one landing right on his hand displaying the shimmery effect. The colours remind him of the beauty in the world, beauty that is natural and cannot be taken as easily as life can be.

 

Sometimes, Reid liked to get to work early and stand in Morgan’s office to watch the sunrise over the buildings. Morgan didn’t always lock the door to the office, and on those days Reid would slip in before anyone could arrive and stand, coffee in hand, watching dawn come.

 “You okay Reid?” He jumped in surprise as Morgan arrived early one morning, interrupting the younger’s morning ritual.

 “Aurora.” He said without thinking, that being the smartest thing in his head, also the _only_ thing besides ‘holy fuck what are you doing here.’

 “You wanna repeat that for me genius?” Morgan’s tone was light, showing no negative feelings for Reid whether he understood or not why Reid was in his office.

 “Aurora. It’s a noun, meaning dawn. It comes from Roman mythology, their Goddess of Dawn was called-”

 “Aurora. Mind if I join you?” Reid stared at Morgan for a few seconds before softening into a smile and shifting over a little, giving him some room by the window to watch the orange light bleed into the sky. Orange light bleed into his skin too from Morgan’s touch, his large hand touching Reid’s lower back in an affectionate gesture of _thanks._ Reid spent the rest of the day feeling like his own personal sunrise, glowing softly in joy.

 

 “Whatchu thinkin’ about pretty boy?” Reid looked up, grinning as he saw Morgan sinking into the chair beside him, a cup in his hand.

 “Sonder.” The reply was easy, slipping off his tongue like it was his own name, tearing his gaze from Morgan back to the busy street in front of them. His legs were crossed, one foot bouncing a little, the hem of his trousers exposing a grey and red striped sock.

 “Okay, you wanna explain that a little more for me or are you gonna make me Google it?” Morgan teased, breaking his muffin in half and offering some to Reid. Reid took the muffin with a soft thank you, popping a piece in his mouth before speaking again.

 “It’s a noun, one of my favourites actually. It means the realisation that everyone walking past you has a life as vivid and as complex as your own. Maybe a little less so than us, because how they could get more vivid and complex than the FBI I’m not sure but…”

 “But someone walking past us might be planning a proposal, or about to find out the name of their new niece.” Morgan cut in, finishing his sentence for him and Reid nodded as he sipped his hot chocolate.

 “Exactly.” He loved that thought. That he wasn’t the only one living life to the full. That he wasn’t the only one experiencing something. The man in the suit walking past him might have survived a kidnapping, and look at him now. Maybe the homeless man he offered a coffee and a bagel was a trained astrologer who didn’t mind the homelessness because it meant he could stargaze easier for longer.

 “It’s a nice thought.” He spotted Morgan holding his coffee cup out and Reid snickered, clinking the ceramic together softly in a cheers to the world before going back to think about the people strutting past in their 6 inch heels and 10 dollar shoes.

 

It was when they had just finished a case that Reid got to share another favourite word with Morgan. They were stood in a forest, Morgan with a yawn twisting his face.

 “Komorebi.” Reid said quietly as he stood beside Morgan, watching his friend’s eyebrow twitch upwards in confusion.

 “That another of your favourite words?” Reid gave a little excited nod, unable to stop the bright smile from crossing his face. He loved linguistics and words, and Morgan seemed to actually _want_ to hear about these words, would actually listen to them and their meanings and origins, and remember them for a later date. “Wanna tell me what it means?”

 “So, you see the way the sunlight is filtering through the trees?” He waved his hand at the ground in front of them, at the light dappled ground.

 “Mmm?”

 “That’s it. It’s a Japanese word meaning simply sunlight filtering through trees.” He tucked his hands into his trouser pockets, long fingers curling around a conker he’d found a few minutes before, running the smooth object against the palm of his hand.

 “Huh. It makes a really interesting colour, the light on the ground. Kinda like the colour of…” Morgan tipped his head to the side, looking at Reid, the implications in his words making Reid’s heart stop in his chest, an instant lump forming in his throat. He knew the words coming were _your eyes_ but he wanted to hear Morgan confirm it.

 “Boys, we’re leaving!” JJ called. Morgan shook his head quickly before scrambling away, an almost guilty look on his face as he did.

 

The next word he got to share was an accident. A case was again over, this time in Miami, and Morgan had called Reid at midnight down to the beach for a stroll. He said it was to clear his head before they needed to head back.

 “I don’t come to the beach often, so I thought whilst I had the chance, I’d take it.” Morgan shrugged when Reid arrived. Neither spoke much as they walked, they just appreciated the soft sound of the waves and the occasional seagull. There were times they could hear a nightclub, the sounds of music and laughter reaching their ears, but that wasn’t something they wanted to be part of tonight. Sometimes it was, and Morgan would sit back and watch Reid do magic and entertain men and women alike, while Reid would watch Morgan dance with hips that didn’t stop on the dance floor.

 “Hey, Spencer.” At the mention of his first name Reid perked up, looking at Morgan as if he was about to explode. They didn’t use first names often. Something they’d not spoken about, but there was just this… if they used last names, it was less personal. Hurt less when someone was hurt.

 “Yeah Mor- Derek?”

 “You got any favourite words about the beach?” That surprised him. Morgan _wanted_ to knows more. He was actively _asking_ for a word.

 “I know one.” He stopped, turning to face the ocean, the dark sky reflecting in the expanse of water, each wave creating a small white line across the mirror surface. He could see how someone could have a fear of it, he really could. It looked bottomless and empty, something that you could fall into and never find your way out of. But at the same time, the reflection of the stars speckled on the surface made him feel at peace. It was like they’d fallen out of the sky and landed in the water, like if he swum out there he’d be able to pluck the silver starlets from the water and weave them together into a shining bracelet or long ribbons.

 “Shoot.”

 “Mångata. It’s Swedish. Literally translated, it’s the glimmering roadlike reflection the moon makes on the water.” Morgan didn’t respond, he just kept looking out to sea at the mångata in front of them, the white reflection of the moon like a beacon. Without thinking Reid moved, slipping his hand around Morgan’s and squeezing his friend’s hand tightly. Morgan couldn’t see the smile on Reid’s face when the squeeze was returned.

 

Reid nearly laughed when he found it. He was scrolling through the Internet, reading definition after definition, learning new words and the origins of old one when he stopped, reading a word once, then twice, then a third before before he actually let out a soft laugh. He read through it one more time before opening up Facebook - something he’d been pressured to get by the team. It was useful, he couldn’t deny. He could see photos of Henry and Garcia on her girl’s nights out without having to be there, enjoying the smiles on his friends faces that he would have otherwise missed. He opened a chatbox with Morgan, the previous messages (mainly work based or a ‘pick me up in 5, KK’) loading within seconds. Without further hesitation, he sent a message.

 **Spencer Reid:** Mamihlapinatapai.

 **Derek Morgan:** bless you???

Reid laughed louder at that, realising that he should have seen that coming.

 **Spencer Reid:** It’s a new favourite word

 **Derek Morgan:** o?? What’s it mean :)

 **Spencer Reid:** Mamihlapinatapai, noun. The wordless look between two people who both desire something, yet are equally reluctant to initiate.

 **Spencer Reid:** It’s from the Yagán language from Tierra Del Fuego, South America.

 **Spencer Reid:** Morgan??

It was five, then ten minutes since Reid had sent the message. Then fifteen. No reply from Morgan, just a _seen_ on the message about the meaning of the word, but not on the follow up of his name. Reid closed his laptop with a click, the golden orange butterflies he’d had weeks ago in the rain returning but this time full of nerves, making him feel sick. As he was about to make himself a green tea and attempt to sleep away what he was thinking was a bad choice, his doorbell rung.

 

Morgan was stood there, chest heaving, eyes glittering with something that Reid had never seen before. In fact, it reminded him of another word, scintillate, to emit flashes of light. That was it - Morgan’s eyes were scintillating in the low light of Reid’s porch as he reached out and grabbed hold of Reid’s shirt, dragging him closer, closer, _closer_ until they kissed.

 

The surprise made Reid stiffen for a split second before he realised his lips were pressed to Morgan’s, and Morgan’s lips were so, so soft. He relaxed into the embrace and the kiss, kissing _back_ for those precious few seconds it lasted before Morgan pulled back.

 “Limerence.”

 “What?” Reid wasn’t one for lost words. He was often out finding new words, words like iridescent (or goniochromism). He would find words like petrichor, komorebi, sonder and aurora. He _hunted_ for words like mångata, and scoured archives of paper and data for words like mamihlapinatapai. He knew words like mudita, a noun that means to take delight in the happiness of others, and hiraeth, a Welsh word that meant a homesickness for a home you can never return to or never was. But as Morgan said the word ‘limerence’ to him, he couldn’t think of a definition.

 “Limerence. It’s a noun. It’s the state of being infatuated with someone. It’s one of my favourite words.” It was like a thousand and one fireworks went off inside his chest in colours he could only dream of.

 “Oh?” Of all the times to _not_ sound like a person with an IQ of 187 now was _not_ the time.

 “Mhm. Wanna hear another one?” Morgan’s lips were so close to his own, so close he could feel the breath leaving him when he spoke, feel the way his lips curved and pursed around every letter.

 “Sure. I mean, you’ve heard enough of mine.”

 “Spencer. Male name of English origin. Means Keeper of Provisions. I’m starting to believe the provisions you keep are these wonderful, wonderful words I could listen to you talk about all day. Words like petrichor, sonder, mångata and komorebi. I remember each and every one. They’ll all a part of you - and you are one of my favourite word.” Reid’s heart was fluttering, it had become it’s own butterfly now, soaring around in the hollow of his chest, large wings delicately carrying it higher. As it did, he grinned, tilting his head forward to kiss Morgan again, ignoring the groan of thunder in the distance and the distinct crackle of lightning in the air around them. The weather could wait - this was _way_ more important.

 

**緣分/yuanfen - a relationship by fate or destiny (Chinese)**

**Author's Note:**

> come holla @ me on tumblr:  
> > synergygabriel


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